Many things perplex me and leave me troubled, <br />Many things are locked away in the white book of stars <br />Never to be opened by me. <br />The starr’d leaves are silently turned, <br />And the mooned leaves; <br />And as they are turned, fall the shadows of life and death. <br />Perplexed and troubled, <br />I light a small light in a small room, <br />The lighted walls come closer to me, <br />The familiar pictures are clear. <br />I sit in my favourite chair and turn in my mind <br />The tiny pages of my own life, whereon so little is written, <br />And hear at the eastern window the pressure of a long wind, coming <br />From I know not where. <br />How many times have I sat here, <br />How many times will I sit here again, <br />Thinking these same things over and over in solitude <br />As a child says over and over <br />The first word he has learned to say.<br /><br />Conrad Potter Aiken<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/improvisations-light-and-snow-08/
